


My Sweet Release

by Nyxierose



Series: Octavia Ascendant [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Octavia has had a long day and thank goodness for sweet boyfriends who understand that sex can be a glorious coping mechanism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sweet Release

She has never felt so tired. It’s been a couple of weeks since everything happened, but it feels like years, maybe even more than that. As much as Octavia loves looking after people, learning what plants do what and how to tie bandages, her body’s still not used to being pushed like this. A lifetime of being hidden didn’t exactly lead to resilience, and while she knows she’ll adapt sooner or later, that process sucks quite a bit more than she ever expected it would. Freedom, she’s starting to think, is just a  _tiny_  bit overrated.

She’s not even sure which part of her body hurts most by the time she makes it back to her tent - her legs, probably, she’s spent the whole day darting all over the camp because the great thing about having several hundred people around is that none of them have  _any_  idea what they’re doing and that means injuries. Cuts abundant, a sprained wrist, a broken leg because some idiot wasn’t watching what they were doing  _again_. Clarke and her mom deal with the worst of it, thankfully, but Octavia’s apparently competent enough to handle the more mundane tasks and that means knotting cloth, cleaning supplies, and trying to talk people down. That last bit is especially tricky - apparently Monty got all his more amusing traits from his mother, and while Octavia’s pretty sure that she likes Nerissa Green, that woman is  _not_  easy to be around for more than a couple of minutes…

"You should rest."

Attention back to her surroundings now, back to the other person sitting on the makeshift bed. She’s still rather surprised by Lincoln’s willingness to stay with her, closer to where she’s needed, but most of his possessions have migrated from the cave and their tent’s starting to look like a proper home. He’s a good man, she thinks, makes himself useful where he can to prove that there is no need for further conflict and gets on well with most of the others. But most importantly, he  _sees_  her - not the mistake or the reckless disaster of a girl, but the person she is becoming - and sees potential and beauty in that. She’s not sure she believes in love, but this feels damn close.

"Too tired to sleep," she shrugs, kicking off her shoes and shedding her jacket. "You’d really think people would figure out that knives are sharp, but noooo."

"You’re doing something significant," he counters, standing to wrap his arms around her. "Isn’t that what you wanted?"

"To be surrounded by people whose survival skills suck even more than mine?" she laughs. "Honestly, I’m surprised so many of them are still  _alive_.”

"You sky people are resilient."

"Something like that," she murmurs, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Now c’mon, I think you suggested something about rest?"

There is little grace in the way they somehow end up on the bed, bodies entwined, lips locked and hands roaming. He is above her, yet she is the one grinding upwards, wanting. For these sweet minutes, she can forget that in the morning she will wake for another chaotic day of learning to be a healer, and she will claim whatever distraction she can.

"My sweet perfect Octavia," he says against her skin, taking advantage of one of her upward movements to push her pants down. His touch is light on her hips, yet perhaps more powerful for it. The first time, that night she went to find him in the cave, she was amazed that one so strong could be so gentle. Every time since, that apparent contradiction has been her undoing.

Her turn now, every bit as deliberate as she undresses him. It’s cold enough for shirts to stay on, but her fingertips dance on his thighs and she wonders, not for the first time, how many other women he’s been with. She knows there was at least one - the memory of her own awkward sexual debut is recent enough to convince her of this - but whether there were others, whether any of them meant anything, is a question she cannot find reason to ask. Maybe it’s better to never know for sure.

He kisses her at the same moment they connect, lingering in her warmth before slowly thrusting. In this last month or so, he has learned that the young woman who does everything else at full force is quite fond of slow worshipful sex, and so that is what he gives her. As lips cover her face in soft kisses, one hand slips up to cup her breasts and the other down to her center, splayed across her exposed stomach as his thumb rubs her clit. She is at her most beautiful like this, arched back and open mouth, so innocent and so depraved at once - and he loves her,  _gods_ , he loves her.

His name is silk on her tongue as her body crosses the edge, still the only thing on her mind as she feels him follow. They will fall asleep like this, she knows; his body will slip out of hers and his arms will once more be around her waist, but they will be every bit as entwined when their eyes flutter shut as they are now and it will be wondrous.

"Tired now, my star?" he asks, rolling onto his side to make her more comfortable.

"Very," she replies, resting her head on his chest. "But it’s always so much easier to sleep after you fuck me."

"Then sleep," he whispers, pulling her just a little bit closer. "You can take on the world in the morning."


End file.
